


prairie town

by applecrumbledore



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Real World, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-16 10:58:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10569912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/applecrumbledore/pseuds/applecrumbledore
Summary: The auto shop mechanic knocked the kickstand of his motorcycle down with the heel of his sneaker. He had pale blond eyelashes and a full mouth, wrinkled white t-shirt tight around his arms, jeans over big thighs. No edges. Loud in both volume and presence. Sasuke fidgeted with his hands inside his pockets.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cherryfizzies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryfizzies/gifts).



> this is a surprise birthday gift my girlfriend. it is, i hope, the only thing they’ve ever really wanted in life: decent naruto fic. happy birthday linz! working on this for a month without telling you to cheer you up when you had a bad day was hell, as was pretending i wasn't doing anything for your birthday.

 

 

Sasuke had lived in town for just over a month when his car finally broke down on the highway. It had survived the four-day trip up the coast and across the country, but it gave up the last and final time once he was unpacked and settled into his new place, and already five minutes late for work on a Tuesday. The car was an old, white Toyota Tercel that he bought for five hundred dollars from a guy who had it parked in an alley behind his house. It looked fine, but it ran like shit. And then a year and a half later, he was leaning on its door a hundred yards from exit 51 towards the city centre of a nowhere town, trying to get enough reception to look up a tow company’s number while the wind sifted grit and dust through his hair.

“Exit fifty-one,” he said to the tow truck guy on the other end of the line. A flock of starlings burst out of a blackberry bush in a ditch on the other side of the highway. “Just south of exit fifty-one.”

The guy groaned. “Yeah, alright, I know it. I’ll be there in … twenty? Thirty?”

_“Minutes?”_

“No, seconds.” The guy snorted. “You’re right outside the shop.”

Sasuke huffed. “Thirty minutes is fine.”

“See you soon.”

 

 

The tow truck driver was a barrel-chested old man with long, white hair and a permanent smirk, and he smelled like jasmine oil and motor oil. He stood half a head taller than Sasuke when he hauled himself out of the truck to survey Sasuke’s car.

“Jiraiya,” he said, sticking his hand out to Sasuke, who shook it.

“Sasuke,” he said shortly, then looked towards his car. Jiraiya ambled towards it and ran a meaty palm over the hood.

“An ‘81?”

“Sure.”

“What did you do to it?”

“Nothing. It just stalled.”

“Fair enough. This thing’s no spring chicken. It’s not even a _winter_ chicken. It’s peck-peck-pecking on heaven’s door.” He stooped down and peered in the window. “Clean as hell, though.”

“Just tow it to the nearest mechanic, if you know one. It isn’t going to start again.”

“ _We’re_ the nearest mechanic, kid.”

“Oh.”

“We run a garage with the tow place. Only makes sense in a town this size.”

“We?”

“I got a kid helping me out.”

Sasuke pictured some knock-kneed nephew scrambling around the garage handing the old guy wrenches and beer. “Right.”

“I’ll give you a ride there if you want, after we’ve got her hitched up. Pop the hood, check it out.”

“Sure.” Sasuke pulled his phone out and texted a coworker: _Car broke. Be in soon._

 

 

Jiraiya’s truck was stuffy and hot, even in the cool morning air. There was a stack of well-thumbed dime store romance novels piled on the dash and Sasuke couldn’t stop looking at them. Jiraiya blasted the radio and the A/C and drummed his fingers along to Pink Floyd as he drove, carrying them down the highway and along a series of increasingly smaller streets towards the shop. Sasuke kept glancing at his car hitched up on the back of the tow truck; being able to see it in the reflection of the windshield made it seem like it was chasing them.

“You’re not from around here, I’ll take it,” Jiraiya said. Sasuke made a quiet, vaguely negative noise and Jiraiya didn’t say anything else about that, or anything at all. Sasuke liked him more for taking the hint. Jiraiya turned up the radio, then after about ten minutes, he turned it back down, fished his phone out of the cup holder between their seats and made a call.

It rang and rang and no one picked up. He swore at the phone and tried again, and someone answered.

Jiraiya said, “Tell me you’re not still asleep.” Whoever was on the other end was loud and shrill. Jiraiya said, “Alright, alright, whatever! Just get your ass moving, I’m gonna be there in ten and we’ve got a guy with a busted ‘yota that I need you to look at. What do you mean, why can’t _I_ do it? I’ve got that lady coming in to look at the Oldsmobile at quarter after and I _know_ you know I’m not done with it, I—Well, you’re _gonna_ be at the shop in ten, ‘cause I’ve got the guy here with me and I’m not gonna make him hang around! That’s bad customer service! Just gun it!”

Something else was said, and then Jiraiya hung up. He dropped the phone back in the cup holder and muttered, _brat._

 

 

The shop was a squat, sun-bleached stucco building hemmed in by dirt and tall, dry grass. It was in a light industrial area and the lane that led to it was full of potholes; the stack of novels tumbled off Jiraiya’s dashboard and into Sasuke’s lap. A painted sign at the front of the building said _BUNTO AUTO REPAIR._ Jiraiya navigated the tow truck around the back and pulled it in at an angle to keep it out of the lane. A garage door took up nearly the whole back of the building, made from grimy squares of glass. It was dark inside.

“Goddamn it.” Jiraiya shut off the truck and hopped out. _“Oi, brat! You’d better be in there!”_

The shop stayed silent. Sasuke climbed out of the tow truck and surveyed the place—a painted, chipped door next to the garage, padlocked shut, a clay tile roof, a driveway patterned like a rorschach test with oil stains. Painfully quaint. Didn’t exactly reek of reliability.

Jiraiya rattled the chained-shut door and kicked at the garage door handle, muttering to himself. He turned to Sasuke. “He’ll, uh, be here in a second.”

“I’m sure.” Sasuke got his bag out of the front seat, slammed the door, then tossed his keys to Jiraiya. He checked his phone. Six percent. “I’m late for work. I can come back later for the car, call when it’s—”

There was a distant roar. At first, Sasuke thought it was the ocean, before he remembered he didn’t live on the coast anymore. Then he thought it was a helicopter. Then he saw a cloud of dust rising from the front of the shop and he realized it was a motorcycle.

The noisy thing swung into the alley and around the back to where Sasuke and Jiraiya stood. Sasuke shielded his face from the spray of gravel and dirt and when everything had settled, he looked up. A young guy with ruddy, suntanned skin and a beachy blond mop of hair straddled a beat-up motorcycle—chipping matte black finish, rusted joints and a big headlight on the front—and didn’t look the least bit apologetic about his dramatic entrance.

Jiraiya said, “For fuck’s sake, Naruto, if I catch you not wearing a helmet again I’ll smash your dome through a brick wall _myself.”_

“You rushed me!”

He knocked the kickstand down with the heel of his sneaker and hopped off the bike. Sasuke couldn’t tell how old he was, anywhere between eighteen and twenty-five with a baby face like that, but he was decidedly not the scrawny nephew he pictured when Jiraiya said _kid._ He had pale blond eyelashes and a full mouth. His wrinkled white t-shirt was tight around his arms, jeans over big thighs. No edges. Loud in both volume and presence.

He looked at Sasuke. “Toyota guy.”

His eyes were prairie-sky-in-summer blue.

Sasuke said, “Late guy.”

Naruto squinted at him.

Jiraiya rattled the chain on the shop door. “Hurry up and give me the keys.”

Naruto fished a ring of keys out of his pocket and tossed them to Jiraiya, who unlocked the shop and disappeared inside, flicking on lights as he went. Naruto craned his neck to look at Sasuke’s car behind the tow truck.

“What's that, a Tercel?”

“Sure.”

“What happened?”

“It stalled on the highway.”

“Does it do that a lot?”

“Not without starting again.”

“And that's what it did this time?”

“I called a tow truck, didn't I?”

Naruto ignored him. He walked around to the car and ran his palm up the hood just like Jiraiya had done, like he was soothing a skittish foal. “Alright, well, that could be lots of stuff.” He peered in the window like Jiraiya, too. 

Sasuke’s lip curled. “I hope you've got a better diagnosis than that. You being a mechanic.” He paused. “I assume.”

Naruto snapped up and looked at him over the hood of the car. “ _Yeah_ , I’m a mechanic, and what do _you_ know? You're the one who can't fix his own ride, hotshot.”

Sasuke raised his eyebrows and the garage door gave a thunderous rattle as it opened. Jiraiya stood under it with his arms stretched up to the ceiling, shoving the door open. 

“Stop buggin’ the guy, he's late. Grab his number and drive him to work like a normal person.”

“I’ll call a cab,” Sasuke said quickly.

Jiraiya said, “Don't worry about the bike, he’ll take my car out front.”

Naruto jogged inside the shop. Sasuke checked his phone again. Naruto came back out with car keys and a pad of paper and pen, which he offered to Sasuke. 

“I’ll take a cab,” he said as he scribbled his number down, no name. “Really.”

Without waiting for a response, he handed the pad back, took out his phone and opened a window to search for a cab company’s number. Five percent battery.

“It'll take a while for a cab to get out here,” Naruto said, somehow sly. “Aren't you late for work? The old man’s car goes pretty fast.”

“Taxi drivers always speed.” Sasuke found a cab company and tapped to call. He turned his back to Naruto as someone picked up. “Yeah, I’d like a cab to—to—”

“Twelve-fifty-two Lakewood,” Naruto snickered.

“Twelve-fifty—”

Sasuke’s phone died.

A hot rush of shame rolled up his body from his feet. He still had his phone to his ear. He looked at a house with yellow clapboard siding on the other side of the lane, at a black cat sitting on its porch. He turned around.

“My phone died.” Only then did he lower it. “Do you have a phone in …”

Naruto grinned, tossed his keys in the air and caught them.

“It's half past ten. What time do you normally start work?”

Sasuke squeezed his eyes shut and when he opened them, Naruto seemed even brighter, all yellow and white and gold, corrosive, gaudy like New Year’s Eve.

Sasuke said, “I work downtown.”

Naruto had already started off towards the front of the building. “You’ll be there in ten.”

 

 

Jiraiya’s car was a red Firebird and if Sasuke had known anyone in that town, he would have slunk down so no one saw him. Naruto seemed perfectly at ease in the car and drove with his window down and his arm hanging out, his wrist hanging over the top of the steering wheel. True to his word, he went _fast._ Sasuke’s fingers were white-knuckled around the armrest in the door.

Naruto said, “Because everyone always thinks this, I just wanna say: that old dude’s not my dad. I'm his apprentice.” 

Sasuke was looking out his window at some low, long  agricultural building they rushed by. Cows or mushrooms, something like that. 

“Cool.”

“I didn't tell you my name, either, did I? Naruto Uzumaki.”

“I heard.”

“Not my last name you didn't.” Naruto glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. “Most people would offer _their_ name right now.”

“Sasuke.”

“Sasuke …”

Sasuke bit the inside of his cheek. “Just Sasuke.”

Naruto looked over at him. Sasuke wasn't looking back, but he could see Naruto smile.

“Like Cher.”

Sasuke scowled. “Watch the road.”

 

 

Sasuke worked in a gleaming white-tiled building downtown, and “downtown” was a three-block cluster of shops, restaurants and a few brick office buildings. Naruto pulled up out front and the roar of the Firebird’s engine was deafening in all the quiet.

“The new lab, eh? Are you in agriculture?”

“Something like that.” Sasuke swung open the door and got out.  Naruto leaned over into the passenger seat and looked up at him through the window.

“Need a ride home?”

“No, I’ll take a cab. And I’m going back to your shop. It won’t take longer than that to fix, right?”

“I dunno, I haven’t looked at it yet. Charge your phone, I’ll call you.”

“Of _course_ I’ll charge my—”

“Aren't you late?”

He was smiling. Sasuke scowled down at him. Anything snappy and rude that he thought to say felt flat, so he didn’t say any of them.

 

 

He tapped his keycard to get into the lab and Karin was already there, perched in front of a computer at the back. Jugo wasn't coming in until later and Suigetsu should have been there and was missing. Sasuke hung up his jacket, said nothing to Karin and headed for his desk in the small back room, trying to shake the lingering discomfort from his morning, the disruption of his routine, his clammy hands, everything. Naruto. After a few minutes, the lab door clicked and Suigetsu sauntered in.

The first thing he said to Sasuke was, “Nice Firebird,” and Sasuke winced. “Didn't peg you for the muscle car type.”

“Did it look like I was driving it?”

“No. But—”

“Where were you?”

“Having a smoke on the roof.” Suigetsu leaned in his doorway. “Who’s the beefy blond?”

“The guy from the auto shop where my car is.”

“He was _juicy.”_

“Are you finished?”

“Oh, defensive. That's not smooth.” Suigetsu smiled. “I knew you wouldn't be in too late so I left afternoon feeding and playtime to you. Martin’s got tests at two, so don't dawdle.”

“Don't tell me how to do my job.”

“Ouch! Sharp today. Alright, dawdle with your precious babies, see if I care. We’ve got that meeting with Anogen at four, too, don't forget. Karin’s put together an agenda, it's buried somewhere in that email thread with the—his email header says ‘Yes Biotech Laboratories,’ you know the guy?”

“Yes.”

“Lovely. I’ll see you then. I’ll be in the lab with yesterday’s samples until then, call me if you need me.” He turned to go, then paused and came back. “Should I assume your prickly behaviour and lack of wheels means you're _not_ joining us for trivia night at Pam’s Pub?”

“No. I have plans.”

Suigetsu snickered at that. “I don't believe that for a second, Casanova.”

 

 

He knew they were just lab animals, but Sasuke liked the snakes. He sat in the warm room full of tanks and let Martin, a Brazilian pit viper, curl around his arm towards his wrist. Snakes liked him, too. He thought they were perfect animals and wonderful companions—smart, quiet, independent. It's not why he got into animal research, but it was part of it.  He'd always wanted a snake, but it never seemed fair when he had to move so often, going wherever his niche skills and research history were needed. Such was academia. It never bothered him much.

He thought, not for the first time that afternoon, about Naruto. The guy gave the indelible impression of someone who had lived in that tiny town his whole life—the ease with which he knew the streets, his relentless hospitality, the deep tan line on the back of his neck. Sasuke hadn't seen him around in his months here, but one person was easy enough to miss. The place was small, but not one-horse-town small, and it's not like Sasuke went out much, or at all.

The snake rested his head in Sasuke’s palm and seemed content to stay there. Sasuke was hot under the heat lamps. His phone was charging on his desk in the other room and the urge to go get it was almost irresistible.

 

 

When he got back from their meeting with Anogen, he had a voicemail and a missed call from an unknown number.

_“Hey, Sasuke! It's Naruto Uzumaki, from Bunto Auto Repair. I gotta talk to you about your car, it's sort of—pardon my French, but it's fucked. Gimme a call when you've got a sec, I’m usually here ‘til seven, and if you can't call today it's no big deal because long story short, we can't fix it today anyways, I gotta order parts, so—you could also just_ not _call me, and I’ll call you again tomorrow, ‘cause I might just drive into the city to pick up the thing, ‘cause I've gotta go anyways. So feel free to … not call. Or call. It's your call, haha. Alright, well, the number here is 306-432-7761, and my number is 306-333-8613, in case there's a, uh, car emergency. Anyways. Talk to you soon. Bye.”_

Sasuke scribbled both numbers down on a sticky note as he listened to the message. When he looked up, Jugo was resting his massive frame in the doorway, his jacket on and ready to go.

“Suigetsu says you're not coming to Pam’s.”

Sasuke stood. “No. I'm busy.”

“That sounds like something someone who doesn't want to bond with his coworkers would say.”

“It's also what someone who has a life outside of work would say,” Sasuke said, and even as it came out of his mouth, he knew he was setting himself up. Jugo’s laughter boomed.

“Then I _know_ you're lying,” he said. 

Sasuke grabbed his jacket off the rack and his bag off the floor and said, “I don't need to justify myself to you.” Jugo motioned at the bag over his shoulder.

“If you're just going to the gym, you can always meet us after. It'll be a late night.”

“It's Tuesday.”

“Trivia Tuesday,” Jugo corrected. “A local tradition. And a late night.”

“Don't be hung over tomorrow.”

“Just because you don't drink, it doesn't mean—”

“I don't _not_ drink.”

“I've never seen you.”

“That doesn't mean—”

“Alright, I’ll stop bugging you. But really, come hang out if you want. Starts at eight. I’ll save you a seat.” He tapped the door frame, gave a little salute and left.

Once he was alone, Sasuke shook his head, pulled out his phone and dialed the cab number from earlier.

“Hi. Yes. I'd like a cab to Hatake Dojang on West 3rd.”

 

 

—

 

 

Naruto roared down West 3rd on his bike, well aware that he was already late, not that Konohamaru knew he was coming. The dojang was in the strip mall next to the drug store, two doors down from the laundromat, he knew that. His bike screeched into the parking lot, which was full, so he slid in between two other cars and knew he wouldn't have to pay for parking. He tucked his helmet under his arm and checked his watch—only fifteen minutes past eight. There'd be plenty of practice left to watch. Some of the students were doing their belt tests that day, Konohamaru had said, so it was a good day to come watch. Naruto had never been, but he had always meant to go.

The door was at the back of the room, so no one saw him slip in late. He joined a group of parents holding coats who stood against the wall and scanned the dobok-clad students for Konohamaru’s unkept thatch of hair. He found him sitting cross-legged in a throng of other preteens wearing green and yellow belts, but Konohamaru didn't see him: his eyes were fixed on the only students who were standing, three adults in black belts. They were moving fluidly through their patterns, Naruto knew that much from Konohamaru talking his ear off about it when they hung out. It was beautiful, a series of sharp, precise movements and stances, fluid, one after another. They faced the front, where a handsome older guy with silver hair watched and evaluated them. The shortest of the three students had his black, glossy hair gathered into a stubby ponytail, held back with a headband. He had wide, slim shoulders and pale skin and long, elegant hands, and he moved perfectly, in the step of his feet and the precise cut of his hands through the air and the speed with which they stopped.

The three students turned towards the left in perfect synchronicity and Naruto sucked a breath in. The short student was Toyota Guy from that morning. Sasuke. The same unmistakable long eyelashes, sharp jaw and pretty mouth.

Sasuke didn't see him at first, and in that second, he was intense, focused and passionate. That morning, he hadn't been anything other than irritated or bored. Then Sasuke saw him, and his black eyes widened for a second before he snapped his attention back ahead. 

Sasuke didn't look at him again until the three of them finished their pattern, the instructor gave them a thumbs up, and they moved off to the side to have another set of students go. Then, Sasuke glanced at him, his head bowed. Naruto made sure to smile. Sasuke didn't smile back, but he didn't scowl, either. Later, Naruto got to see him split three boards in half with a back kick, which was pretty great, too.

The instructor called out “Sasuke Uchiha” during the belt presentation and Sasuke was flushed red when he went up to accept his belt, black with three yellow bands around the ends. Naruto rolled the name around in his head, _Sasuke Uchiha,_ and he knew he’d heard it before but he couldn’t remember where.

 

 

—

 

 

Sasuke lingered in the change room in the hopes that Naruto would be gone when he got out. Logically, he knew he must be related to one of the kids in class, but part of him was convinced that Naruto had just known he would be there.

When he got out, he immediately saw Naruto over by the door with his shiny black motorcycle helmet tucked under his arm as he talked to the Sarutobi kid. Sasuke plucked at his sweat-tacky t-shirt, adjusted the gym bag over his shoulder and wandered over. Naruto saw him and got distinctly starry-eyed _._ Sasuke’s palms were clammy. 

“Hey,” Naruto said. Konohamaru turned around and saw Sasuke.

“Wh—you two know each other?”

“Something like that.” Naruto hadn't stopped smiling, nor looking at Sasuke. “And before you say anything about how I must have followed you here like a weirdo: I’m buddies with Kono.” He slapped Konohamaru on the back and Konohamaru dropped his brand new blue belt.

Sasuke looked between the two of them. “Right.”

“Yeah, we’re good pals. One of those Big Brothers things, you know? It's fun. Anyways, that was some amazing stuff! Really, really cool. What belt did you get?”

Sasuke fidgeted inside his jacket pockets. “Third dan.”

“I have no idea what that means, but it sounds—” Naruto stopped when Konohamaru motioned for him to bend down. He did, and Konohamaru whispered something in his ear. Sasuke watched his smile turn into a full grin as Konohamaru spoke. “Interesting. Anyways—is your mom here yet? You need a ride?”

Konohamaru shook his head. “Nah, Grandpa’s here today. But thanks.” He tucked his belt into his pocket and headed for the door. “He's probably outside. I’ll, uh, leave. Now. Later.”

With that, he was gone, and then it was just Sasuke and Naruto and half a dozen kids in sweaty doboks, cramming their shoes on as they waited for their parents to drive them home. In the dead of summer, it was still faintly light out.

Sasuke couldn't stand it. “What did he say to you?”

Naruto tilted his head to the side, smiling. “That you're a black belt and the best student at this dojang, and that I'd better be nice to you ‘cause he wants you to like him the most when you become an instructor.”

“I’m not going to be an instructor.”

“That's what I would've told him if you weren't standing right there.” There was a knee-jerk twinge of annoyance at Naruto’s assumption of _knowing._ It passed. Naruto added, “Not that I know you. I just mean, you don't seem like a guy who’d wanna teach kids anything,” and Sasuke knew that he'd probably made a face.

“I’m not,” he admitted. He was officially out of things to say, but he was under the impression that Naruto had never run out of things to say in his life.

“Hey, so—you wouldn't wanna grab food or anything, would you?”

Sasuke raised his eyebrows. 

“Now?”

“Yeah, now. I know it's late, but you must be hungry after that, right? My favourite noodle place is always open late. I was gonna go anyways, I was working on your car ‘til late and then came right here, so I haven't eaten, and—yeah. If you haven't, either, you might as well.”

Sasuke held his breath. He was ferociously hungry but also dead tired and he had leftovers at home. Naruto’s eyes weren't just that blue in the sun, they were like that all the time.

Naruto added, “I, uh, only have my bike. But I've got a second helmet.”

Sasuke thought of Suigetsu sarcastically calling him _Casanova_ that morning.

He said, “Yeah. Okay.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

Naruto brightened somehow, as if he weren't already at full power.

 

 

In the parking lot, Naruto handed him a helmet he kept in a compartment on the back of his bike, and Sasuke took it and stared at it.

Naruto asked, “Have you been on a motorcycle before?”

Sasuke was too tired to lie. “No.”

Naruto seemed to find this delightful. 

“You're gonna love it. Lean into the turns and hold on.”

 

 

Sasuke was determined not to hold on out of spite. He snagged his fingers lightly in Naruto’s shiny jacket and didn't let his front touch Naruto’s back. Naruto didn't talk—he wouldn't have heard him if he did—and Sasuke could feel the heat radiating off his body in the cool night air, like a furnace, hot like he was more alive than most people. Every time the bike accelerated or jumped, Sasuke’s stomach flipped, or so he told himself.

 

 

The ramen place was a little wooden building with no more than five tables in it. Naruto greeted the server like they were old friends and seated himself, picking a spot at the back. Sasuke hung his bag over the back of his chair and sat gingerly, looking around.

Naruto said, “Authentic, right? I know.”

“Did you bring me here because I’m Japanese?”

“What? _No,_ it’s actually my favourite! I wouldn't just—oh, you're joking. You've got a weird sense of humour.” Naruto checked his watch. “Aaaand, nine p.m. I got the first smile out of you. That only took twelve hours, and it was at my expense.”

Sasuke tried to stop smiling but he couldn't, and Naruto seemed immensely pleased with himself.

“Anyways,” he said, “It’s good, trust me.”

“I’m sure.”

They ordered and the server joked and chatted with Naruto. Naruto got a beer and Sasuke stuck with tea. Naruto wagged his bottle at him.

“You don't drink?”

“Not often.”

“But not never?”

“Not never.”

“Wild,” Naruto said, but didn't elaborate. “So, you're new in town, right?”

Sasuke curled his hands around his tea. “What makes you say that?”

“I've never seen you around.”

“It's not _that_ small of a town.”

“It's pretty small. I'd remember you.”

Sasuke shrugged. He tried not to overthink what _I'd remember you_ meant. “I’ve been here for a couple months.”

“Crazy! I've lived here my whole life.”

“I figured.”

“How come?”

His gaze flicked down to Naruto’s calloused hands, a scab on his knuckle, the same t-shirt he was wearing at work that morning, which had an oil smear on the left sleeve that wasn’t there before.

“You fit here,” he said finally.

“What a nice thing to say to someone.” Naruto’s eyes crinkled up when he smiled. “You move here for work?”

“Yeah.”

“Which is …?”

“Animal research.”

“Like putting lipstick on pigs?”

“Like studying use of Brazilian pit viper venom in blood pressure medication.”

“No _shit._ ” Naruto leaned in. “That’s so cool. You get to touch snakes?”

“Yeah.”

“Every day?”

“Most days.”

“That’s so cool,” he said again. “So, you’re a black belt and a snake handler.”

“I’m a researcher.”

“A _snake_ researcher.”

“Right now, yeah.”

“What else have you researched?”

“In university, I studied the social hierarchies of desert night lizards.”

“You went to _university?”_

Sasuke smiled. “You’re easily impressed.”

Naruto sat back and scowled. “I am not! I just—I mean—it’s cool. I’m polite. Shut up.” After a second, he laughed. “Well, whatever, maybe I’m impressed. This morning, I thought you were some stick-in-the-mud office worker or something, like an accountant. Now I know you’re a stick-in-the-mud snake handler, and I saw you kick five inches of wood in half with your bare foot. Pretty cool.”

“I’m not a stick in the mud.”

Naruto almost choked on his beer. “Oh, come on. I had to twist your arm like a jackass to get you to hang out with me, and it’s like you’re in physical pain right now. The first thing you said to me was ragging on me for being late to work. You’re a bit of a stick.”

“I’m n—shut up.” Sasuke sipped his tea. His eyes slid from Naruto’s hands up his thick, tanned arms, white above the bicep where his shirt sleeve rode up. “How long have you worked at the car repair shop?”

“See, look at that! Conversation. Finally.”

“Shut _up.”_

“It’s been eight years. Since I was in high school.”

“And you … like cars?”

“Love ‘em. I like a lot of stuff, but mechanics is the only thing I’ve ever been like, predisposed to. It’s not like I’m stupid, I just … I’m no desert night lizard researcher, you know? But people are jerks. They hear you didn’t go to school and they assume you’re an idiot, like that’s the only thing to do.”

Sasuke nodded seriously. Naruto went on.

“I could have gone to school, I just didn’t want to. Or, if I couldn’t, it would’ve been about money, not about me being stupid. Besides, what would I go for? I’m really, really good with cars, and I love it, when the old man’s not being a slave driver. Fixing a car’s like solving a puzzle. It's so satisfying.”

“I understand.” Sasuke felt the same way about his taekwondo patterns—doing something over and over again until you perfected it. He was trying to figure out how to word this when the server came back with their food. Naruto’s bowl was twice the size of Sasuke’s. “That's a mixing bowl.”

Naruto beamed. “They keep a special bowl in the back for me.”

“You're joking.”

“He’s not,” the waiter said. He looked at Naruto. “Another beer?”

“Please.”

They fell into a comfortable silence as they ate, both of them glancing once in awhile at a soccer game on the TV mounted near the door. Naruto mentioned Sasuke’s car and driving into the city tomorrow to get parts for it and a couple other cars he was working on, and Sasuke nodded along, generally interested but out of his element. Naruto could eat a frightening amount of food. By the end, Sasuke caught him glancing up at him again and again, like he wanted to say something. He let it go on for five minutes before it got irritating and he put his chopsticks down.

“What?”

Naruto sat back, caught. “I—Do you like movies?”

“I like good movies, I guess. As much as anyone.” He assumed Naruto was making awkward small talk, but when he didn’t continue, he asked, “Why?”

“There’s this theatre downtown that always does late night movies on Tuesday, and tonight they’re playing one of my favourites. I was gonna go anyways, and since you’re here I thought maybe you’d wanna come.” He tapped his beer bottle against his teeth with a glassy noise. “It’s not a new one but it’s so good, it’s got teens fighting aliens. It’s really good. You’d like it.”

Sasuke wasn’t wearing a watch and there was no clock on the wall behind Naruto’s head. He tried to think of any reason at all not to go, but his team wouldn’t be in until late tomorrow, a short, casual dinner conversation had made his throat tight with anxiety, he hadn’t been to the movies since he was a teenager and Naruto had this earnest, unabashed look of hope on his face. He wasn’t even trying to hide it. Sasuke didn’t know how to deal with someone so honest and he wondered what it must have been like to live with such a beautiful lack of shame. Asking a stranger to dinner and a movie, unrepentant and unafraid.

He said, “It’d better be good.”

 

 

Naruto bought popcorn, which he ate most of, and they sat near the back of the old theatre with its wood-paneled walls and classroom smell. There were half a dozen other patrons in the theatre, scattered over the rows in front of them, no one in their row. Up close, Naruto smelled like sunny laundry detergent and something spicy and boyish; that, and popcorn.

The screen flicked on and showed a series of low-budget advertisements from local businesses that looked like they were made with PowerPoint. Naruto leaned over and whispered, “Jiraiya and I made one of these last year. I screech in on my bike and there’s a star wipe. Remind me to show you sometime.” Sasuke snickered despite himself. When the movie started up, Naruto leaned in again and said, “Don’t blame me if you don’t like it,” and Sasuke said, “I will.”

It was about a group of inner-city teenagers protecting their apartment building from violent aliens, and it was dark and loud and fast. Sasuke didn’t hate it. Naruto didn’t throw popcorn, which is a bet Sasuke would’ve lost. He didn’t talk, either, but for the first hour, he offered Sasuke popcorn out of politeness, and then scarfed the rest himself. Sasuke put his arm on the armrest between them, the bone of his forearm just along the edge, his hand hanging off the end. Naruto moved around a lot, folding his hands in his lap, and then not, and then putting his feet up on the seat in front of him, and then back down. Sasuke couldn’t get his heart to slow down and he didn’t know why.

During the movie’s loud, climactic brawl, Naruto finally raised his arm, slow and obvious, and put it on the armrest next to Sasuke’s. After a minute, he turned his wrist and brushed the backs of their hands together. Sasuke held his breath. He didn’t move his hand away and his entire world focused down to Naruto’s skin on his, warm where his was cold. He took a shallow breath, closed his eyes and moved his fingers so his knuckles touched Naruto’s, just gently, slipping between his. He opened his eyes. The kids on screen shot the snarling aliens with a barrage of fireworks and sliced them up with katanas. Naruto went _ha,_ breathy and nervous, and pressed his hand against Sasuke’s, lacing their fingers back just deep enough to hold on. Without their palms clasped, Sasuke hoped he couldn’t feel him sweat, and he hoped that Naruto didn’t ask him how he liked the ending of the movie, because he couldn’t have told him what happened.

When the credits rolled and the dusty orange theatre lights came on, neither of them moved. Sasuke kept looking at the screen but he could see Naruto looking at him. Naruto opened his mouth to speak.

“Uh—”

“Are you going to ask me to do something after this?”

Naruto laughed. “Asshole.” He moved his thumb against Sasuke’s index finger, still between his. “If I did, would you say yes?”

“It depends what.”

“Does it?”

_No,_ Sasuke thought. _Yes. No._

“A little,” he said.

 

 

Back on the bike, he sat close enough to feel Naruto’s back against his chest and rested his hands just above the cut of his hips. He felt unbelievably stupid but also young, giddy and more normal than he ever remembered feeling before.

 

 

Naruto’s favourite bar had carpeted floors. Sasuke watched him go to hold the door open for him as they stepped through, then think better of it at the last second.

“You’re sure this is okay?” Naruto asked. Sasuke looked around—dark, a little ugly, sparsely populated. He liked it.

“Yeah.”

“Really? You said you didn’t drink.”

“I didn’t say that. I wouldn’t come if I didn’t want to.” He wandered towards the bar. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Naruto elbowed him in the side. Sasuke would never admit to elbowing him back. They picked seats at the bar and Naruto’s knee rested against his when he sat down and the knowledge that this was officially something more than grabbing a beer with a stranger screamed between Sasuke’s ears and made him excited, sick, so far out of his element that he couldn’t even see his element anymore.

“Evening, friends.” The bartender, a willowy Chinese kid with a bowl cut and massive eyebrows, slid up to them. “What can I get you on this fine summer night? Oh, Naruto.”

“Hey, Lee. How’s it going?”

“Great! A good night. Earlier, a—oh, right, I need to see your identification, please.”

Naruto groaned. “I’ve come here every week for five years. Maybe six. Since before _you_ worked here. You’re gonna ask every time?”

“Asking for identification is the law _._ You can never be too sure. How do I know you are Naruto? For sure?”

“Lee—”

“For all I know, you could have a younger brother who looks like you, whom you taught to impersonate you in order to be served under age. That _is_ something I could see you doing.”

Naruto laughed and got his wallet out. “You’re not wrong.”

“I know.” Lee looked at Sasuke. “We have not met.”

Sasuke nodded. “Sasuke.”

“Hi, Sasuke. My name is Rock Lee. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

“I am going to need to see your ID too.”

Sasuke bit the inside of his cheek. “Sure.”

Lee was peering at Naruto’s driver’s license under the light when Sasuke got his own out. He angled it away from Naruto. Lee handed Naruto’s back with a _yes, good_ (Naruto rolled his eyes) and then Lee took Sasuke’s.

“Ah, not from around here, I see!” Lee said, searching the license for a date of birth. “I hope Naruto is showing you the best side of our little town.”

“Yeah. I was born in 1991, are you done?” Sasuke said, his hand already out to take the license back. 

Naruto beat him to it and snatched it out of Lee’s hands.

“Aw, sick, I never get to see driver’s licenses from anywhere else! Lemme see!”

_“Don’t.”_

“It’s kinda bland, eh? At least ours—” Sasuke snatched for it and Naruto held it out of his reach. “Oh, shit, that reminds me!” Sasuke grabbed for the license again and Naruto let him have it. “Your name! You didn’t tell me your last name when we met, but I heard it at the dojang!”

“I don’t—”

“It’s Uchiha, right? I've been wracking my brain trying to figure out where I know …”

He trailed off and Sasuke squeezed his eyes shut. If he never had to see the look on someone’s face when they realized where they knew _Uchiha_ from, it would be too soon. 

Naruto said, “You’re not …”

Every time he went to the pharmacy or the bank or anywhere his name was said in full, there was that pause, the dawning realization, the old memories being dusted off.

Naruto’s voice was tiny when he spoke again.

“You're about the right age, huh.”

Sasuke couldn't stand it. It had happened too many times. He stuffed his wallet into his pocket, snatched up his bag and stormed for the door.

“Hey! Wait!”

When Sasuke was seven years old, his older brother killed his entire extended family to level out some unimaginably bad gang debt. Sasuke didn't know the whole story and never, ever wanted to. To him, the details didn't matter. It was national news for months and months and the name Uchiha was stuck in the annals of history along with Dahmer and Gacy and Bundy. It prompted a nationwide debate over youth gang violence and gun licensing laws. There was a Wikipedia page titled “Uchiha Family Massacre,” which Sasuke had never read.

_“Wait!”_ Naruto called from behind him as he stormed down the sidewalk. “Come back, c’mon!”

_“Go away!”_ Sasuke yelled. “I’m not talking about it!”

“ _Fine,_ but I—” Naruto grabbed his wrist and he shook him off on instinct, but he stopped walking, out of breath more out from hyperventilation than exertion. He spun around to face Naruto, whose face was openly, unabashedly upset. “Stop, okay? I shouldn't have said anything, let’s just go back and—”

“I’m not going back in there,” Sasuke snarled. “Just leave me alone, I’m going home.”

When Sasuke was thirteen, he learned the phrase _damaged goods_ and it stuck with him in a way that nothing else ever had.

“Don't go,” Naruto breathed. “Listen, I’m _sorry,_ I just—fuck, I don't know, I—my parents are dead, alright? They died when I was a kid and I remember hearing about your family on the news and I was six or seven and I just thought, that poor kid is like me now, if I could just—”

“What are you _talking_ about?” Sasuke screamed. “I don't know you! I didn't ask for _any_ of this! I don't need your sob story or your charity or your fucking _pity date,_ alright?”

For a split second, Naruto crumbled. Then he steeled his jaw.

“If you think all kindness is charity,” he said slowly, “then that explains a lot.”

Sasuke wanted to leave but he couldn’t make his feet move. Naruto didn’t have his jacket on and his arms were goosebumped in the night air and he didn’t look mad or sad, just pure upset. Sasuke couldn’t stop thinking about their hands in the theatre, being on the back of his bike, the nagging feeling of something good and normal and solid that had been in his mind all day, and with it, the feeling that it wasn't something he deserved.

“Don’t go,” Naruto repeated. “We don’t have to talk about it, but … this wasn’t a pity date.” He held Sasuke’s eyes until Sasuke looked away. “Listen. I didn’t have parents growing up, but my dad-type-person once told me to never, ever go to bed angry. It messes with your head.”

Sasuke looked down at his hands. He couldn’t land on a single thought, his brain flitting with panic from one thing to another, _parents, Itachi, jail, orphan, blood, go, Naruto, work, go, bar, bike, home_. 

“I don’t _know_ you,” he said again, desperate like an excuse, but his voice cracked this time.

“Well, you could.” Naruto got a little closer but didn’t touch him. “If you want.”

 

 

He’d gotten used to the bike. He put his arms around Naruto’s middle and would have rested his head on his back if it weren’t for their helmets. He liked to think he didn’t imagine the way Naruto leaned against him. It was nearly one in the morning and he was bonelessly tired, his thighs ached from taekwondo, his muscles were rubbery from dissipated panicky adrenaline and every time they leaned into a curve he wanted to fall over and go to sleep in the road.

 

 

“It’s not much,” Naruto said as he unlocked his apartment door. It was like a motel, the door facing out onto a balcony that faced the street. “I don't make a snake handler’s salary.”

“Shut up,” Sasuke said, so tiredly that Naruto laughed. They stepped inside and he flicked the lights on.

His apartment smelled just like him. It was small and cluttered and warm, a thick old couch piled with blankets sitting in front of a TV stacked with game consoles, a ceramic-tiled kitchen in the corner, a thick wooden cutting block on the laminate counter and a small, rumpled bed in the corner. The walls hung with posters and photos and ticket stubs and flags. There was a short shelf above the bed lined with _Dragonball Z_ figures. The coffee table was covered with magazines.

“Here,” Naruto said, holding his hands out for Sasuke’s bag, and Sasuke, too bewildered to say no, handed it to him. Naruto dropped it on the couch with his motorcycle helmet. “You can hang your coat up,” he said as he hung his own on a wooden hook by the door. He swept an arm at the apartment. “Well, that's the tour. Casa Uzumaki.”

Sasuke slipped off his jacket and hung it up, moving slowly as he looked around. _“You_ live here?”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

Sasuke took a few steps in. The place was brimming with life in a way that made his chest ache, overloaded with things to look at and take in; it was busy but not messy, and surprisingly adult, despite the posters and figures. The kitchen was obviously well-used and the idea of Naruto cooking made Sasuke feel an emotion he didn’t have a word for. “It's so … alive.”

Naruto beamed. “Your compliments are so rare but they're _so_ perfect.” He crossed the room into the kitchen. “It's the only place I've ever lived in, my whole life. It was a wreck when I was a kid, obviously, but I grew up. A bit.”

“You lived here with …”

Naruto tipped his head. “Just me.”

“Who took care of you?”

“Mostly me. There’s Iruka, down the hall, who’d check on me a lot and do parent stuff sometimes, but it was pretty much just me.”

Sasuke’s eyes widened. “That can't be legal.”

“It’s a long story.” Naruto shrugged. Sasuke leaned his hip against the arm of the couch and Naruto leaned on the kitchen counter and they looked at each other, silent and appraising from across the room. Finally, Naruto said, “Do you still want that beer?”

Sasuke nodded and came to stand in the kitchen as Naruto grabbed two beer from the fridge, then handed one wet can to him. They stood across from each other, leaning on the parallel kitchen counters, and Sasuke didn't want to know what Naruto was thinking; if his memory was good, he'd be conjuring up those photos that were everywhere when it happened, Itachi in handcuffs, little Sasuke holding the hand of a social worker on the steps of the courthouse, their big, beautiful family home wrapped up in police tape.

“We don't have to talk about you,” Naruto said quietly, looking down at his beer, “but when I was four or five, after my parents were gone, I remember … sitting in a bathtub. A social worker had come and put me in the tub, and then just left me there. And I just sat there. I didn't know how to wash myself because I’d never been taught, I was four, and no one was there to help me. So I just sat there until the water got cold, then climbed out.” He twisted his beer can around. “It’s one of my first memories.”

It was a peace offering, Sasuke instantly knew: a razor-sharp memory dredged up from the depths of his being where people who had been through awful things locked them up for good. It was something painful and humiliating to level the playing field with Sasuke in a way that Sasuke would never have asked him to do, but at the same time, just like that, he felt more at ease. He felt awful that it made him feel more at ease, but it did. He’d never admit to it, but a long time ago, he knew—or hoped—that if he had to be with someone someday, he would end up with another orphan. Someone else who understood the unimaginable, gaping emptiness of that loss.

After a long silence, Sasuke said, “Itachi writes to me,” and Naruto inhaled sharply. “Every month that he’s been in prison. All these years. He keeps getting my new addresses from somewhere.”

“Do you …”

“I wish he were dead. I’ve never read a single one.”

“Ever?”

“Would _you_?”

“I can’t even imagine,” Naruto said quietly. “Or pretend to know.”

“Thank you,” Sasuke mumbled, and he meant it. They stood there in silence for what felt like hours, and it wasn’t uncomfortable, nor was it exactly pleasant. Sasuke sipped his beer and watched Naruto scuff his feet against the lino. He thought about the movie theatre again and Naruto’s surprised laugh when their hands touched. He squeezed his eyes shut and said, “I’m not good at this.”

Naruto laughed softly. There was a metallic _tink_ as he set his beer on the counter and the swishy sound of his socks sliding on the floor.

“That’s okay,” he said, and he was closer than before, his voice like a smile. “I got you.” Sasuke opened his eyes. Naruto was right in front of him with his baby blues bright in the kitchen fluorescents, hopeful and nervous. He said, “I’m not reading this wrong?”

Sasuke shook his head. Naruto took his beer from him and put it on the counter behind him, then tipped his face up, leaned in and pressed their lips together. As easy as that. Sasuke couldn't remember the last time he kissed someone, but he knew it had never been good or right or thought-out. He’d only kissed strangers before, and Naruto was a stranger, too, but Naruto kissed him slowly and carefully like he was something worth remembering. He had never been on the receiving end of _careful_. In return, he tried to press every ounce of feeling he had into that kiss—every shaky hand and sweaty palm and millisecond of doubt and fear and lust and guilt and need, everything he’d never learned how to say right.

“This okay?” Naruto breathed, still right against him, and Sasuke made a noise in his throat and kissed him again. Naruto’s hands smoothed up his arms, brushed against his shoulders and the smooth sweep of his neck. Sasuke’s fingers slid against his ribs, warm through his thin t-shirt. He wasn't sure what else to do with them. Naruto pressed closer and their lips slid together and it was easy, slow, unthinking. The part of Sasuke’s brain he could never turn off clicked into dormancy, if only for a moment. He liked how Naruto’s hair smelled. He liked how big his hands were as they held his face. He liked his little apartment stuffed full of the bright and vibrant evidence of a life well lived. Naruto eased back, his thumbs pressed to the hollow under Sasuke’s cheekbones.

“Wow,” he whispered, “I just—I don’t do this very often.”

“I wouldn’t care if you did,” Sasuke said back, just as hushed and clandestine, as if anyone were listening. He tipped his head and their lips brushed again.

Naruto nipped him and said, “Not bad for day one, eh?” a sweet lilt to his tone, and Sasuke, surprising both of them, laughed.

“It's alright.”

Naruto pinched his cheeks and kissed him again, hard. Sasuke let him crowd him back against the counter and kiss him long and slow, again and again, his arms winding around his neck. Naruto pulled back and whispered, “Do you ever just,” then stopped, breathed, looked at Sasuke’s mouth, “feel like you're _drawn_ to someone?”

He wanted to tell him that all day, he’d thought about the way he looked on that bike when he first saw him behind the dusty garage, bright like his own personal sun, that he scared the shit out of him and he didn’t know the first thing about him but he wanted to know, and he was going to know—but that could all come later, after breakfast and date number two and three and four, if he was lucky. He’d never felt lucky before, and it was new and raw and exciting. 

“Apparently,” he said, and he made Naruto laugh.


End file.
